


Thirty Minutes - Janet’s POV

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-06
Updated: 2004-12-06
Packaged: 2018-10-06 13:18:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10335542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: SUMMARY: Thirty minutes in the life of Janet Frasier





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Stargate SG-1 FanFiction - Title: Thirty Minutes - Janet's POV

1300

Daniel almost died again today, but thanks to a trained and competent staff, he didn't. Standing next to the OR table, I pull off my gloves and look down into the face of my friend. His eyes are still taped closed, the gauze and ointment placed there by the anesthesiologist to guard against drying.

I wait for the gurney, so we can transport Daniel to the ICU and get him settled. Peeling the bandages back slowly, careful not pull at the hair of his eyebrows, I finally begin to make note of his lesser injuries. Bruises on his face are beginning to coalesce into one in some spots and I see the bandage on his thigh that covers a gash I will have to suture in a little while. Looking down at my friend, I'm suddenly thankful that I had the training and the staff to keep him from dying.

I rub a hand through my hair and let myself once again begin to think of Daniel as the person I've come to respect and love. My friend...., I tremble a little as I realize that, once again, I had to separate myself. Janet the friend had once again become Janet the doctor as I operated during the last fours hours. Those hours, oh God, those hours found me elbow deep in Daniel's abdomen trying to stem the bleeding. Massive infusions of blood and fluid along with finding the bleeding site turned things around. But for a while there, I thought he was lost to us once again.

Looking at the clock, I realize that it's past the time that I promised to have some word about this remarkable young man who is my friend. SG1's waiting, needing to know that Daniel would survive. At least, I think he'll survive, there are never any guarantees.

1310

Daniel's finally being moved onto his bed in the infirmary. I lift and support his head as he's transferred from the gurney and then watch as the respiratory therapist and nurses work to hook my friend to a ventilator and to monitors that are used much too often by the members of SG1. The spaghetti of tubes and wires are in disarray, bottles of hastily hung fluids, hooked into the human body which now occupies the bed.

Looking at Daniel's color, I realize the sheets look healthier then he does. How does he do it? How does he come so close to the edge and manage to back away? Certainly, as I watch my staff efficiently work, I know that they have something to do with it. I know my own skills and those of the other doctors who work here, are also responsible, but Daniel's a special young man who seems to defy the odds at every turn.

But I also know there was a time that my abilities were useless. I was unable to do anything for my friend but pump him full of painkillers and then watch him die. I was unable to cure him, unable protect him from the pain, unable to help him when he needed me the most. I saw him begin to dissolve before my eyes, and all I could do was stand witness to the death of my friend.

Stroking his hair back out of his eyes, I'm grateful he's back with us, that Oma returned him. Cassie needed her uncle back. And I needed my friend.

1320

The wires are separated and connected to the appropriate machines. I sit at the table near the wall, watching the nurses take vital signs, administer antibiotics, hang two more units of blood and various other tasks which contribute to the continued life of my friend. Writing orders, I long for a cup of coffee, to give me a little lift.

I smile to myself as I remember the times that Daniel would appear in my office with a cup of his special blend, set it on my desk and then leave without a word. He knows my caffeine addiction is almost as bad as his, so he constantly reminds me so I don't give him too hard a time.

//Well, Daniel, you won't be having any caffeine for a while, my friend. You have a little recovering to do.//

I make note of my friend's vitals, and, although, not completely normal, they certainly are satisfactory considering his injuries.

1330

I need to dictate a report of the operation for Daniel's chart. But, I see it is long past time that I said I would be done. I know SG1 and General Hammond are outside waiting and worrying, but I also know that they understand that Daniel comes first and that I'll come get them as soon as I'm sure he's settled and, hopefully, stable.

Weary, I leave the ICU and walk to the door of the infirmary. Stepping out, I come face to face with Colonel O'Neill. Giving him a little nod, I see relief flood the man's entire body.

He follows me to Daniel's bed and I watch as he sinks into the chair. The colonel picks up his friend's hand and begins a head to toe assessment of the tubes and wires that grace Daniel's body, a certain weariness present in his posture. He settles a hand on his friend's chest, anchoring him, letting him know that he's not alone.

I feel the burn of unshed tears beginning. This man, this soft spoken archeologist, has touched my life in so many ways. I don't know what I would've done, if he'd died again on my watch. I feel like I've failed him in the past. I never want to fail him again. He's my friend and I love him.

**The End**

  


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> Notes: This is a sequel to Devra's Thirty Minutes. She challenged me to write it from Janet's POV and here is the result. Thank you, Dev, for the confidence and trust to become a part of this tale. As always, my thanks to my heart sisters who always support me and make my evenings a little more fun. I don't know what I ever did without you.

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> © 4/22/04 Not mine, though I wish they were. Don't have any   
>  money and most likely never will.  
> 

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